Something to Remind You
by mettigel
Summary: Hermione ponders on Ron's scars - and makes a decision. COMPLETE. Rated T for some graphicness.


_Author's Note__: This is a little something that has crossed my mind lately. I suppose it's not very likely to happen, but I think it's kind of sweet. I hope you like it. Please R&R!_

_Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to JKR. Everything you don't belongs to me :-)_

* * *

**Something to Remind You**

Hermione smiled as she woke up in her bed in the Australian hotel with Ron in her arms. The events of the past night replayed in her mind; she knew already now that they would surely remain one of the happiest and most treasured memories in her life. It was the first time that she had seen Ron naked. He was no Adonis, granted, but Hermione preferred him that way; it suited him well and it did not make him look brutish like blokes such as McLaggen with their over-quelling biceps and stuff. Ron was lean with small pecs and a flat belly, broad shoulders and hips that were so narrow that both hands of Hermione's were almost enough to cover his lower back. The lack of food during the past months had brought out sharply the definition of his modest muscles, making him look strong. All in all, Hermione thought that he had filled out quite nicely.

Last night, however, had also made her acutely aware of how scarred he was. Most prominent were the faint scars on his forearms caused by the brain that had attacked him in the Ministry of Magic, and there were also a few scars on his bum and thigh that looked like a remainder of his burns that Harry must have had overlooked when he had been healing him after their escape from Gringotts. But to her appall, she had realized that all his other scars had been caused by her.

There was the palm-sized oval shape on his left upper arm, where she had splinched him. She was glad that Bill had been able to eventually fix his muscles so that he was able to normally use his arm again, but for his skin, there had been no hope. Her insides burned with guilt every time she saw the faint white line that would remain there for the rest of his life. Ron had told her multiple times that he did not blame her and, in fact, even admired her for having been able to Apparate the trio to safety at all, in spite of Yaxley clutching her. But still... If only she had been more focused...

Then, there were the numerous little marks all over his forearms and hands from the birds that she had sent after him. She wondered why he had never had Madam Pomfrey heal them; the scars were not magical by definition. Perhaps, she mused, he had decided to keep them out of remorse for hurting her by starting to see Lavender. The thought made flare up both her guilt and her adoration for him.

At least he had not kept a scar from the cut on his knee that she had caused by accident back in Tottenham Court Road last year, as she had insisted in applying Dittany to the wound once they had settled in Grimmauld Place. Still, she felt miserable knowing that the boy she loved had to bear so many scars because of her, due to her mistakes. As much as she disliked the idea of intentionally hurting him (aside from leaving behind the occasional love bite and raking her nails over his back when they were, well... _playing_), knowing from her own experience about the traumatic long-term effects of pain and scars, it almost made her wish that she could make up for it by giving him a mark that symbolized her love for him.

* * *

It was the afternoon of August 31, 1998, and Ron felt entirely miserable. After having successfully found Hermione's parents and restoring their memories, Hermione and he had never again had the chance to spend as much time alone with each other as he would have liked since she was making up for the lost time with her parents and he had started to assist George in the joke shop last month. And as though that alone was not bad enough, she would leave for Hogwarts tomorrow and they would be apart until the first Hogsmeade visit on Halloween. How he would be able to endure the time in between, he had no idea.

"I'm gonna miss you," he said sadly to Hermione who was sitting by his side on the bed in his room.

"I'll miss you, too," she sniffled, blinking away the tears that Ron saw pooling up in her eyes. She looked down at her hands and caressed the silver ring on the fourth finger of her right hand that Ron had bought her from his first salary. Ron's heart warmed when he saw a faint smile creep onto her face as she stared at the ring.

"I kind of wish I had something to remember you by," he thought aloud.

Hermione looked up at him, her brow furrowed as though she was contemplating something.

"Do you trust me?" she asked after a few moments of studying his face.

Ron frowned. "Of course I do," he said immediately.

"No," Hermione said emphatically. "I mean, do you really, _really_ trust me?"

"I'd trust you with my life, anytime," Ron replied sincerely. He was confused. What the hell was she playing at?

"Okay," she said, letting out a heavy breath. "Take off your shirt."

"What-" Ron started, confusion reaching a peak, but Hermione cut him off.

"Take it off!"

"Well, all right," Ron said, shrugging, and pulled his shirt over his head.

"Now lie down," Hermione said when Ron had tossed his shirt onto the floor. She placed her hands onto his shoulders and gently pushed him into the mattress before she climbed into his lap, straddling him.

"Hermione, what-" Ron said hoarsely, but, unsettlingly, Hermione silenced him again by placing her index finger onto his lips.

"Shh. You _do_ trust me, right?"

"Yes," Ron replied.

"Okay then," Hermione said and exhaled again. Ron could tell that she was nervous about something. She seemed to be steeling herself. "Close your eyes."

Ron did as he was told and listened as Hermione spoke again, her voice strained with notable effort to sound matter-of-factly, but a light quiver still betrayed her anxiousness.

"Now what I'm going to do might h-hurt a bit," she said, gently stroking his chest. "But I promise you, I'm not going to harm you. If... if you don't like it, say something and I'll stop. But as long as it's okay, please keep your eyes closed a-and don't move or speak until I tell you to, okay?"

Ron felt a surge of excitement rush through him. Whatever Hermione was up to, it sounded suspiciously like some sort of a kinky game, and he was all for it. "Okay," he responded, grinning broadly.

He felt Hermione bend down, place a soft kiss onto his chest, and sit up straight again.

"I love you, you know that?" she whispered, running her hand through his hair.

"I love you, too," Ron said.

"Okay," Hermione said, her voice somewhat higher than usual. "Now relax."

Ron took a calming breath. The next moment, he felt Hermione's hand on his right shoulder and something that could have been a fingertip on the left side of his chest. The thing on his chest, whatever it was, gently traced a line on his skin and he felt burning warmth where it touched him. He involuntarily hissed at the unexpected sensation.

"Is this okay?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Yes," Ron said gruffly. "Go on please."

Not knowing what Hermione was doing to him almost killed him, but he let it happen, having complete faith in her. Whatever she did, it sort of felt as though she was tracing shapes over his chest with her wand - for it was certainly her wand that she was using on him. His skin burned, but something about the pain was utterly satisfying and relaxing. Well, _no_ - if it had been any other person doing this to him, he would have been thoroughly appalled and would have attempted to fight them, but as it was caused by Hermione, he found that he quite liked it.

Eventually, Hermione stopped her ministrations and brushed a hand across his chest as though cleaning it, and her touch somewhat soothed his aching flesh. And then, there was her wand again, but it was different this time. Instead of the flowing motions from before, the lines that she now traced were much smaller and in between the familiar warmth, he occasionally felt coldness as well. Several moments later, Hermione let go of him completely.

"Okay", she said, her voice trembling. "Y-you can open your eyes."

He blinked his eyes open and looked up at Hermione who was still sitting in his lap. Her face was flushed and she was biting her lip in anticipation. He flashed her a reassuring smile and then looked down at himself with curiosity.

On his left chest were some thick black lines forming the letters "H+R", encircled by the shape of a heart.

"Hermione..." Ron whispered in awe.

"D-do you like it?" Hermione squeaked. "I-I can take it off it you don't like it. I-"

"I love it," Ron said, running his fingers across his tattoo. "I love _you_."

And without further ado, he pushed himself into a sitting position, threw his arms around Hermione and kissed her soundly.

"I thought it'd remind you of me while I'm away," Hermione said, laughing with relief when they had separated for air. "Only you and I can take it away from you."

Ron never took it away. Even after Hermione returned from Hogwarts, her mark remained on his chest. It was there when they married, it was there then their daughter Rose was born and it was there when their son Hugo came into the world two years afterwards. It was also there when his soul eventually parted with his body, worn out with age. In his new world, his much younger and fitter appearance was devoid of all scars and blemishes, as was Hermione's, but to his relief, Hermione's mark remained, having become an integral part of him, bound to stay with him for all eternity, and he was more than happy about it.


End file.
